


the ship in port is the safer one (but it's not the reason it was made)

by cara_chiuling



Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Biblical References, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, background Chakotay/Seven, implied past Janeway/Chakotay, spoilers for Discovery eps 1 and 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-06 09:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cara_chiuling/pseuds/cara_chiuling
Summary: two legends meet; one knows the other's fate. (or, requisite time travel plot: Janeway's in a bad place, emotionally speaking, until she meets Georgiou, one of her heroes who understands her unique struggle.) set during late S7 Voyager/pre-S1 Discovery; title from 'the ship in port' by radical face





	the ship in port is the safer one (but it's not the reason it was made)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a present for captaintilly.tumblr.com!! i love you and your characterization of Cadet Tilly. Stay strong despite the darkness, and cling to what is good. <3

The ache for home was not something that disappeared entirely, even this far down the road, but Kathryn was growing tired. _Time to accept our fate?_ she found herself thinking, and, more often than she'd ever done before - _time to stop being so damn set on an impossible goal_ _?_

She set her PADD down on the sofa and sat back in her chair; the text had stopped registering long ago. Here in her quarters, she could allow herself a degree of relaxation, but nothing could ease the tension. It was thick and almost tangible, and inescapable.

She had abandoned her jacket and comm badge a while back; they sat on the table nearby. Even in the quiet of the evening, though, she had no peace.

Weariness, that's what she felt: the voice telling her with disgusting confidence they'd never make it home despite their and Starfleet's best efforts. How could they, with the odds stacked like they were? And time and time again they had beaten the odds, and time and time again they were still unable to get as far as they needed.

She knew the weight on her shoulders and had recently started to feel like it was crushing her. And at the same time, she'd prefer _this,_ the weight of responsibility to her crew, crush her rather than think about... _him_. Her first officer and close friend who had grown strangely distant from her even as they continued to operate as a command team. And now he and Seven of Nine were seeing each other. (She felt a pang of regret that was quickly swallowed by guilt for even letting her thoughts stray that far.)

Kathryn rose from her sofa and walked up to her replicator. "Coffee, black," she said distractedly, and took the coffee and went to stand at her window, gazing into the stars. Those grand beacons of light were nothing but pinpricks on a map as wide as an ocean. _Voyager_ was so small as to not even register in the universe.

She was alone. And she didn't know what to do with herself and her resounding thoughts and the great vastness of herself and the universe, and no one to talk her down.

She felt a strange tingling sensation in her fingertips and looked down at herself. Was she - getting blurry? Had she drunktoo much coffee in the past few hours? Of all the times to get _lightheaded_ -

Then, in an instant, that dark vista before her fell away. Her coffee cup vanished from her grasp, and she found herself standing in a different place. A colder place - and dimmer. It wasn't the same feeling as being transported; she would hardly have noticed if it weren't for the visual differences-

"Who are you?" came a demand behind her, in a Malaysian accent. Kathryn turned to see - no. Impossible. Her mouth went dry and her mind spun. Was it time travel _again_? Why did these things always happen to _her_?

Standing at the far side of this office was a face Kathryn had only seen in history texts and slideshows about Starfleet's most decorated officers. Kathryn's thoughts raced, and she opened her mouth, trying to think of something to say while simultaneously wondering if she could remember anything that would account for this. Was it Q, or some hallucinatory effect from an anomaly? Had she been drugged?

"Captain Georgiou," she said quickly, before the other woman could ask anything, "I realize that this is a strange situation, and you have no reason to trust me, but please believe that I am here in peace and entirely by accident."

Georgiou's expression narrowed. "Who are you and how did you get into this room? Our shields are up to protect from radiation. Transport is impossible through shielding."

"I wasn't transported here, not by our transporter technology." Kathryn's heart skipped a beat. To be here with Captain Philippa Georgiou and - Temporal Prime Directive or not - get the chance to speak with her? Talk about the chance of a lifetime. "My name is - Kate," she said with only slight hesitation. "I'm unarmed. And I need your help."

Georgiou touched a few keys on her console and didn't relax one bit, cool and tight-lipped. "A security team is on its way. I suggest you not try anything foolish."

"You have my word, I won't," Kathryn replied. She paused, but couldn't help herself: "While they're on their way, would it it terribly out of place to tell you I deeply respect your work and have looked up to you for years?"

"Terribly out of place, perhaps, depending on why and how you're here," Georgiou said drily, as she stepped out from behind her desk to reveal that she held a phaser. "It's unusual to be interrupted in one's ready room by a stranger, appearing out of nowhere, with no trace of transporter technology. And you say you don't know how you came to be here?"

"No idea at all," Kathryn said, "though, if there's any chance you'll believe it, my ship is involved in an... unusual mission, and I wouldn't be surprised if some spatial anomaly was the cause of my transportation. I'm sure you've seen plenty of strange things space has to offer."

Georgiou considered her, and asked, "You're the captain of a starship?"

"Yes. Like you. And I have always looked to your principles to guide me."

Georgiou inclined her head, beginning to look intrigued by Kathryn's words. "Who do you work for?"

"No one you've heard of. A small organization. But I have heard of you, of course." She was glad to be wearing a grey undershirt and not her uniform jacket or comm badge, which would have given her away in an instant.

Something about this experience - or maybe it was her tired, relatively depressed state - made her feel like this was a dream, an ephemeral moment which would pass by all too quickly - and she felt absolutely no doubt that she would be back in her quarters soon.

Why was that? She didn't know, but she did know she felt a deep and distinct kinship with Georgiou. This captain was tasked with an impossible war and died at its start. Kathryn felt like living in the Delta Quadrant was living in the war, and part of her had died on day one. (Was this melodramatic waxing going to be a permanent thing? She'd lost the one person she could share her deepest thoughts and fears with - he'd gone for another woman - _damn it, Kathryn, keep it together_.)

Georgiou seemed to be processing what Janeway had shared, and abruptly changed topics. "You don't seem a hostile as of yet, but I hope you understand my duty to protocol. We'll hold you in a comfortable cell and examine you to make sure your story checks out." She tapped a screen on her desk.

Kathryn noticed a twinge of doubt in her movements and realized - "The security team is taking a long time to get here. Are communications down?"

Georgiou noticeably paused, then continued in typing. "A remarkable guess. You are an observant captain."

With a wry smile, Kathryn shook her head. "Only an experienced one who's learned that careful observation saves lives."

"Something I have learned as well. The line of duty teaches many things to many people."

There was a moment's pause. Kathryn felt unable to resist speaking candidly to the woman she'd studied in her years at the Academy, especially if this was a fluke and she'd find herself back on _Voyager_ at any instant. She barrelled forward with her question. "Captain, I have to ask. If you were giving advice or encouragement to a Starfleet captain on a hopeless mission, what would you tell them?"

Georgiou looked up, seeming to size up the woman in front of her. Kathryn got a proper look at her profile, her black hair tied back in a ponytail, her warm brown eyes filled with hidden depths of compassion. Kathryn wondered if people on _Voyager_ saw a comparable visible level of leadership in her, when she felt like the complete opposite of an ideal leader on some days.

Georgiou took a few seconds to answer. "Is this because your _own_ mission seems hopeless, Kate?"

"Perhaps," she admitted. "It is certainly a long and trying one."

"In that theoretical situation," Georgiou said slowly, "I would ask... What makes this captain call the mission a hopeless one? Is the captain in question trying to carry too much?"

She felt a pang, and responded after a moment, "There's no one else to help her carry what must be carried."

Her statement hung in space for a moment. She realized how desperately foolish and immature it must have sounded. _Captains are supposed to be nearly superhuman_ , she thought. _There's little space for someone to err. Especially when Starfleet's far away and we've got to carry on somehow._

Captain Georgiou spoke at length. "If she is truly alone and out of her depth, with no one to turn to, it is indeed a hopeless mission. No one can reasonably be expected to _physically_ lift more than they can. Likewise, that reasoning applies to any other kind of burden." She paused, and allowed a small smile. "Yet it is all to common that the _real_ problem is that leaders do not share their burden enough."

Kathryn looked down, shaking her head and smiling briefly. "So it's a matter of teamwork."

"It's simpler than that. A matter of vulnerability." Georgiou looked out the window at the stars, then back to Kathryn. "Captain Kate, if I may call you that, it seems to me that you are an enigma who has appeared in my ready room and is jamming all communications signals, and I have no good, logical reason to humor you. But my gut says you're a troubled soul here for advice and not for conflict. So, if you'll allow me to speak honestly..." She left her statement hanging.

"By all means," Kathryn said.

"My first name is Philippa," she said. "It is not a common Malaysian name. I was named after the eleventh book of the Bible, the New Testament. Are you familiar with the text?"

"Only in passing."

"Allow me to share a phrase that always resonated with me. 'Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.' Do you follow, Kate?"

Kathryn heard, but didn't totally understand. "Think positive?" she tried.

"Not at all. It is more than an encouragement. It is more than positive thinking. It is a consignment - a sending out, if you will - the reader of this letter into the midst of a broken world. It is the standing orders for what the early believers thought to be a spiritual war between the forces of good and evil. Is this not the kind of hopeless mission that would cause doubt in the strongest of leaders?"

Kathryn nodded. "You're saying it's a pledge. Holding onto something deep and true despite suffering."

"You see now," Philippa said, and nodded. "It's a battle cry from the depth of the soul. A rally against hopelessness. So this captain you speak of..." Philippa laid down her phaser on her desk. "It is you, and you are beginning to give into despair."

Kathryn bit her lip, clenched her hands at her sides. Let her emotions pour forth. "I have been abandoned by someone who loved me. I have been cast aside by my crewmembers. I have been forgotten by family, neglected by friends. I stand alone with an impossible chasm between myself and home. And there is no one to help me."

"Tell me about those who abandoned you," Philippa pressed.

"The man I thought would stand by me-" Kathryn's voice cracked; she tried again and felt pressure in her head, the hint of tears in the corner of her eyes. "The one I trusted most... he's gone. Beyond my reach. I face the chasm alone."

"There must be others."

She thought back - Tuvok, Harry, Tom, B'Elanna, the Doctor, Neelix - Seven was hard to think of because Kathryn couldn't help but think of _him_ at the same time - and her heart ached. "They deserve so much better than this ship - this mission."

"Then cling to them. Cling to what is commendable and praiseworthy. You may find that you are the very opposite of alone."

As Philippa spoke, Kathryn felt a tingling in her hands, and looked down at herself. So she was right - she was leaving already. Her heart still ached, and she wished she could speak to Georgiou for longer.

"You're leaving," Philippa observed. "I assume my comms will start to work again shortly."

Kathryn looked back up at her. "What stardate is it?"

She didn't even miss a beat. "1206.3. I'll make a log, captain, if you ever want to look it up and hear more from me."

She _knew_. How did she know? Had she given herself away? "Captain Georgiou," she managed as she felt herself slip away from this time, "how do you cling to good things when you don't  _have_ good things around you?"

Georgiou showed the ghost of a smile. Her voice grew echoey and faded. "I don't," she answered simply. "There are times when a hopeless abyss takes me. It appears to have taken you. But know this: it will not last..."

Janeway squeezed her eyes shut and kept Philippa in her mind's eye.

When she opened her eyes, she was back in her quarters. 

Her gut feeling had been right. It was a fluke, a moment when space-time worked dramatically for whatever end, and would never work the same way again. Had Georgiou really understood what was going on - that she was from the future? 

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

She had to find out.

She wiped away the wetness from her face. "Computer," she croaked. She tried again. "Computer, access personal logs of Captain Philippa Georgiou, Stardate 1206.3."

"Personal log accessed. One log found on specified date."

Kathryn exhaled, and nodded. "Play log."

A moment, and then it began. Philippa's voice, measured and kind, spoke.

_ Captain's personal log, Stardate 1206.3. I have had the most... remarkable conversation with a woman who is a complete mystery to me. A certain captain, who, if implications and insinuations are anything to go by, will one day become a Starfleet officer and find herself without hope on a long and arduous mission. _

_ I believe she has taught me about the human condition as much, or more, than I have taught her. In the space of not quite ten minutes, we touched on our role as leaders, our experience as lonely people in need of support, and what one must do when we come to the end of the line. Is it possible to say I understand her without even knowing if that was her real name?  _

_But I do believe..._ I understand her _._

_ It is a thankless task, that of captain. Many people laugh if you say that. How can it be difficult to be in command when we have all those perks and privileges?  
_

_ Those perks and privileges mean little when held against the immense duty, the personal sacrifice, and, above all, the all-consuming loneliness. There are times when the abyss of space and lonely leadership swallows you whole, and there is no one to tell you you're wrong about its emptiness. There is no one to reassure you but your own voice, which sounds hollow to your ears. _

_ Yet hope remains for the lone leader, and only because Starfleet officers are usually idealistic people who often go out of their way to seek relationship. (Is that an optimistic look at Starfleet? One can only hope it's true!) But it's absolutely correct what they say - we are social beings - and it goes beyond an animal need for structure. I believe it is more like the song of a soloist who needs a choir to be harmonized with, and thus heard, properly. _

_So, my dear captain, wherever space and time find you, and even if you do not get the chance to hear this recording, it is my prayer - and it is my_ hope _, for I have never given up on hope - that you find your people willing to shoulder your burden, and you choose to embark on the rest of your journey in the knowledge that you are_ never _alone._

_Forgive me if this is the perspective of someone_ _ who hasn't suffered as you have. I have seen only some small despair and misery in my lifetime, and I only speak from that small amount of pain.  
_

_ But what I have learned is what I already told you: that the abyss may swallow us, and despair may enclose around us, and people may abandon us. This is all true, and should not be shied away from. You must learn to stare it in the face, swallow the abyss right back, and walk all the way through hell to find the starlight at the other side. _

_ Yes, it is a thankless task, this job of captain, but at the same time the most hopeful one in the galaxy. I would not give it up for anything else. I hope you remain strong. _

_ Why do I say it's thankless but also the most hopeful job in the galaxy? Because if you outlast the misery that comes with the task, you will find within you a light so powerful that no darkness of space can snuff it out. It is the power of staying, of continuing, of carrying on. It is the most difficult power of all. But I sense that you are going to find it. _

_ I must go - my first officer is calling me. Remember what we spoke of. Do not resist sharing your burden with others. You will find, in time, that things may become less heavy again. _

_ You will make it there. You must. _

_ Georgiou out. _


End file.
